The Ways of Watching
by allthesebrightthings
Summary: After a training 'accident,' Artemis and Wally begin to see each other in a new light... Spitfire


One - Sweat and Sunlight

Chapter Wordcount - 3103

Rating: MA ;)

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Artemis watched Wally get his ass kicked by Conner. It had gone alright for him in the beginning—obviously quicker, even without his speedster powers, Wally had flitted around Conner, sticking to the edges of the training mat, slowly testing the other boy's defence with blur-quick jabs and hooked kicks aimed at the calf or thigh muscles.

But then Wally had randomly glanced around the room, caught Artemis' eyes, his own eyes tightening in some unknown emotion, and immediately been snatched into Conner's grapple. Wally now struggled to break free of Conner's grip. He tried to shift his weight to put Conner off balance, but Conner's stance was set, feet and hips locked into the ground as sturdy as any oak tree. Maybe even sturdier.

Wally's own attempts left him off-balance, and Conner reached an arm around him and flipped Wally over onto his back. Artemis, usually so happy to see Wally's cockiness payed back in droves, winced at the thud of Wally's body hitting the floor and the ensuing vibration she felt through her feet.

'Ouch' Megan exclaimed sympathetically. A few times during the fight she had jumped in excitement, then slowly drifted back down like a dead leaf sifting from a tree, buoyed up by the wind, but slower, more even and controlled.

It was only the four of them and Black Canary today, who with Wally's takedown, walked back into the centre of the room. Her eyes had dissected each sparring session, and Artemis knew her tongue was sharp with reproach but fair and calculating. Kaldur was in Poseidonis, recuperating after their last big mission. Robin was probably breaking into somewhere he shouldn't be or fooling around with Zatanna while they had the spare time. She'd actually walked in on them once, fucking in one of the supply rooms. Zatanna had been bent over a stack of crates, pants pulled down around her knees, ass large and round and luminous. Z had started laughing when she saw her, while Robin tried to cover the two of them up the best he could, while still thrusting slowly into her. "Shoo, Artemis," Z had said, giggling, motioning her away with a hand, "I'm really close." Face burning, Artemis had shut the door, but not before she heard Robin say, "I told you that you should've used magic to lock the door." "But then it's not as fun that way," Zatanna replied.

Now, in the training room, Artemis squirmed from the memory. How come she always remembered this same memory at exactly the wrong time, like when she was talking to Batman or randomly when she was hanging out with Z? It just popped up into her head like an arrow shot from somewhere she didn't see.

Wally sprawled out on his back, gasping for air while Black Canary stood over him. "You can't lose focus like that," Canary said, arms crossed.

Wally shook his head and groaned, obviously woozy from the last throw than Conner had performed 'gently.' The mats were padded… but Artemis knew how much it must still hurt. At least The Team even _got_ mats. Sportsmaster had trained her and Jade on concrete, where every blow, every fall promised a bruise and threatened skinned flesh, snapped bones: threatened to break them if they didn't adapt, grow harder, tougher. She hated to think it, but his training had worked, in a way.

"I, yeah... I know. I just got… distracted, that's all." Wally glanced at Artemis and his eyes flashed with that same indiscernible emotion. Black Canary followed his gaze and looked at her.

"Hmmph," Canary grunted. Artemis gave her a tiny lopsided shrug. She didn't know what was happening, what she'd done, what was wrong. "Clear your mind," Canary said to Wally. "It's all well and good to lose focus here—"

"But on a mission, it could get me killed," Wally interrupted, voice light and blasé. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've heard it all before, cut me a break."

Canary's eyes turned dark, and when she spoke her voice was short and clipped and hard like steel. "Not just _you_, Wally. Everyone else in this room too, your friends, hell, depending on the mission, you could get _me_ killed, civilians, a whole city. Do not take this hero business lightly, Wallace West." Artemis and Megan shared a sympathetic wince at the use of Wally's full name. "Is that what you want?"

Wally looked shame-facedly down. "No," he said, voice small. "Of course not."

Black Canary squatted down next to him and placed a hand on his sweaty arm. "I know you would never do anything to willingly hurt The Team, Wally. _Of course_ I do."

"We all do," Conner said, Megan nodding sharply in agreement.

Canary helped lever Wally to his feet. Now she looked around at all of them in the training room, grey eyes clear and lucid. "But this pays as a reminder to you all: lack of focus leads to mistakes. Mistakes lead to death. Mistakes always happen..."

The room's mood soured all at once. Megan stared at Conner, eyes bright and brimming. Conner looked at the floor along with Wally, who biting his lip, snuck glances at each of them. Artemis knew they were all thinking like she was: if mistakes were unavoidable and led to death, then how long could The Team last before one of them died?

"They always happen," Canary continued gently, "but they won't always be dire. As your instructor it's my job to try to limit those mistakes, _before_ they have any significant consequences. Do you understand?" They all nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," Wally said and snapped her a brisk salute, chest puffed out, smirk pulling up one side of his face.

Black Canary looked at him, her gaze flat and without humour. "I Like the sentiment, Wally, but if you call me 'ma'am' again, I'll fight you on this mat and I won't go as lightly on you as Conner did. Then you can explain to Kaldur and Robin why you can't run straight for the next month.' Her plump lips turned up into dangerous smile. "Do you understand _that_?" Fuck yeah, Artemis thought, you tell him, girl.

Blanching, Wally took a few steps backwards, got down on his knees and bowed repeatedly to her. "Yes, supreme mistress, my mistake." Even Artemis laughed.

"Now," Canary said. "What was the first thing Wally did wrong? Before he even grew distracted?"

Conner grinned and flexed his huge arms. "He tried to fight me one on one."

"Something a little more concrete," Canary said drily.

They talked for a few minutes about tactics, and Canary went through each of the combatants' mistakes slowly and with excruciating detail. Everyone listened very carefully and with all their attention.

Then, after a quick cooldown jog and stretch, she called an end to their training. Artemis groaned in relief. All up, they'd been hard at work for two hours or so and all her muscles ached. All she wanted was a warm hot shower, a large dinner and then a long, deep sleep without dreams. Was that too much for a girl to ask for?

Conner and Megan thanked Black Canary and walked off together, one arm wrapped around each other. Artemis watched the way the sunlight glistened off his sweat, highlighting the curve of Conner's generous muscles, his broad shoulders and wide expanse of back. She sighed. Surely there was enough man for the two of them? Megan's shirt was plastered to the back of her. Her tight shorts, cut off right below her butt, showed her tight curves wobbling as she walked away. Conner pushed her gently, teasing her, and a psychic wind blew his hair around. They both laughed. Fuck, I could even share the _both_ of you, Artemis thought. She had to pinch herself after that thought to stop her imagining the three of them…

"I want you and Wally to keep at it," Canary said, grabbing her water bottle off the floor. She wiped her face down with a pink cloth. "Just one or two rounds of sparring," she added quickly at Artemis' expression.

"Ugh, do I have to?" Artemis groaned loudly, all thoughts of Conner and Megan wiped from her mind. Wally paused in returning a set of weights to their designated places and she caught his hurt expression.

"It's OK," he said, voice hurt. "I can go for a jog or something. Maybe the wind will prefer my company."

"No, Wally, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just tired. Sorry. Of course I'll spar with you. I don't think you understand what the word 'jog' means anyway."

"Good," Canary said, looking them both over. "I'm sure you can sort some things out." Artemis frowned, what did she mean by that? "Don't break anything." She raised a thin, blonde eyebrow. "And that includes each other."

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle," Wally said.

Artemis snorted. "You're not the one who has to be."

Canary didn't answer; she was already gone.

The room was dead quiet. It was that sleepy time of afternoon where even the sun had crooked his head, his gaze soft-lidded and soporific. The sunlight slanting through the wide windows lit up half the room amber. The shadows of the machine equipment to her right stretched out to the wall, blocky, looking like an art exhibit. Dust streamed through the light's fingers.

"Things are beautiful, sometimes," Wally said, startling Artemis. He was staring at her, arms crossed, and hips cocked, smiling. She blushed, embarrassed he'd caught her daydreaming.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave any thoughts on that to the poets," she said. Then muttered, "those wordy, horny, repressed fucks."

Wally laughed, the sound brimming, echoing off the walls and floor. She grinned in reply. She liked the way he laughed: head tilted back, loud, with no hint of self-consciousness.

"So." He stepped up closer to her, into combat range. His hair was tousled with exercise, shirt and neck streaked with sweat. He wore red gym shorts with white stripes. Looking at him, Artemis was surprised by his height. She always seemed to box him up, constraining him, thinking that he was shorter that he really was, that all he was good for were corny jokes that cleared the room of any tension. But occasionally she was surprised by his depth, his feelings, and, like right now, how he was taller than her: that she had to look upwards to meet his bright green eyes. It was like she always saw him as someone far away, she thought, so far in the distance she couldn't tell if he were running towards or away from her. Although, with his speed, she admitted, she'd probably find out soon enough.

"So?" she asked.

He looked her up and down. "So, you ready to get your ass handed to you?"

"Who wouldn't want to have my ass handed to them?" Artemis said.

Wally grinned at her. "True," he said. Artemis' heart jumped. Her fingers tingled. She didn't think he was going to _agree_ with her. She glared at him. Goddamn, Wally West, she thought, the things you say to get any sort of reaction…

"Oh, now you're _completely_ screwed," she said, trudging to the centre of the mat.

"What?" He asked, arms spread out in a shrug like he was the victim. "What was I meant to do, _not _agree with you? I was screwed either way."

"Square up."

He pouted but came to stand opposite her anyway. "Come on, Artemis, I—"

She cut him off with a swift jab at his jaw. He swayed, dodging the blow. "Now that wasn't very—"

He leaped backwards as her foot swept through the air. His eyes hardened. "Well if you want to play like that…"

Artemis grinned at him, blowing back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Her tired limbs protested as she moved them into action. Her loose shirt, its design cut off from one shoulder, wafted up, exposing her belly when she backflipped away from a punch; the breeze of her own creation whispered off her skin, a welcome respite to the flushed heat.

"That's hardly fair," Wally muttered.

But soon all speech was left behind them as they fell into the battle dance. They started out violent, with sharp attacks which would hurt if they landed. But soon they settled into a steady rhythm that neither of them deigned to break. At moments it would be easy for either of them—especially Wally with his superspeed—to lash out and catch the other, but Artemis found herself, for some reason staying her hand, stretching it out, enjoying the movements of their bodies. Wally matched her, their bodies moving and colliding as their two reflexes parried and riposted and parried in an endless sequence.

Then Artemis' thigh cramped. She pushed herself backwards and dropped to the floor. "Fuck!" she groaned, gripping her leg as it writhed with pain. Wally immediately stopped fighting, and sped up to her, hovering above her in an instant, face frowning with worry and genuine concern.

"Fuck, did I hit you?" he asked.

"You wish. No, thigh cramp," she bit out.

"Where?"

"My thigh, you idiot."

"Which one?"

She pointed to her right leg. He asked if he could help and she nodded. He knelt next to her and began kneading the muscle, which was a knot of pain. It helped.

"Higher," she said.

He complied, fingers moving upwards, working hard at the muscle. He added in his other hand. She directed him to the bright kernel of pain, reorienting him with soft commands when his fingers shifted.

Eventually the pain started to subside, and she groaned in relief. She looked up at Wally, his face a mask of concentration as he massaged her thigh. She suddenly realised how warm his hands felt, how one was pressed against her inner thigh, the other just below her butt. Her breath hitched in her throat. Fuck, it felt good. She hadn't been touched like this in so long. Damn, had she really just thought that?

"Wally…"

He looked up from her thigh. "Yes?" His hands still worked away, gently kneading in small circles, his eyes were wide, clear in their honesty.

She just looked at him, words and pulse caught in her throat. He glanced down at his hands and an angry blush rose up his neck to stand high and proud on his cheeks. "Oh," he said. "Sorry." Was it just her or did his hands linger for a moment, before he snatched them up, stood up and turned away? Her thigh still whispered at her from his touch.

"Thanks," she said, wiping her leg down, stretching it to test the cramp was fully gone.

"No problem... One more round?"

She stood, rolled her neck and shoulders, the joints popping. "One more."

He readied up next to her, fists a blur as he did a series of punches in the air in front of her. She smirked and let him waste his energy. "Now's your chance for redemption," he said.

"That last one was a tie."

"Nope. Not my fault if your body betrays you."

She felt a rush of annoyance. How did he know every little thing to say that would rile her up?

"Ready?" he asked, that cocky grin sweeping out across his face. Damn, she'd be glad to wipe it off him.

"Mhm." She attacked immediately, punching him in the gut. Wally's breath left him in a small exclamation of surprise. While he was recovering, she grabbed his arm, and flipped him to the floor using her hip as the fulcrum, trapping him in a hold.

Everything stilled, quietened so it was just the two of them, both out of breath from the whole afternoon of work; just them and the sunlight sweeping through in bursting waves, illuminating Wally's eyelashes, turning his arm-hairs into splinters of rose-gold, and the dust that kept pouring down, glinting in the soft light like strands of a gauzy, fragile cloth.

She pressed his body further into the mat, controlling his hips. "I thought you said you were ready," she teased, voice light and playful. He didn't answer her. He wasn't looking her in the eyes. Where was he looking? She followed his glance. Her shirt had ridden up again, exposing her smooth stomach, he was staring there, at its rise and fall as she breathed, like it held all the secrets in the universe. It was nice, the way he was watching her: like she was the only thing in the room, in the world.

Then there was something hard rising, pressing up against her butt. Wally's face slowly turned red. He gaped, opening and closing his mouth. Artemis realised it was his dick, pushing sharply into the side off her ass from where she had him pinned against the ground, rock hard. She paused in disbelief. Wally's pulse fluttered at his throat.

"Artemis…" His voice quivered and she felt a rush of something akin to satisfaction, just for the amount of power, she held, right at this second, over the boy beneath her. He squirmed a little, hips moving as he tried to shift her off him. But he couldn't get out from under her fully. All he succeeded in doing was moving Artemis, so she was now straddling him. She looked down at his pinpricked freckles, at his blinking eyes. For a moment his dick rubbed into the thin cloth covering her crotch and Artemis had to stop a sound from leaving her throat at the brief, sudden pleasure. And then he'd levered himself out from under her and she'd stumbled to her feet and and they were both silent and she didn't think she'd hear anything no matter what he said, because her blood was thumping that hard in her ears. With a mind of their own, her eyes slid down to the tent in Wally's shorts that he was still trying to hide, as if she hadn't already felt the whole length of it, long and so hard up against her softness. She bit her lip. She'd made him… He'd…

But she did hear him murmur, "fuck, fuck, I'm… I'm really…" and then, without finishing his sentence, he was gone in a blazing flash of electricity as he streaked out of the room, the door banging shut behind him, and Artemis sat back down on the mat and tried to breathe.

Her mind awhirl, she looked around for any answers: but the sun kept blaring and the dust kept falling, and nothing came to her. A few minutes later, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her with a cool click, her thoughts still scattered like a dandelion blown in the wind.

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_Stay tuned for the shower scene in chapter 2! Consider leaving a review if you loved/hated it. _

_(Cover image is by the lovely dlanorart on Tumblr.)_


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